


(No) Hope of Redemption

by dreamingofmyotop



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: But I guess maybe you could see it that way?, Gen, Locus x Reader if you squint, Not really though, Reader's gender is not mentioned, it's really just a fic with Locus and the Reader, takes place after season 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:19:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5281784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingofmyotop/pseuds/dreamingofmyotop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You had trained him for the war when he was still a bright-eyed boy who disliked killing. Then he shut down, stopped coming for comfort. He became a killer- a monster. In the war, once someone crossed the line from soldier to killer, the was no hope of redemption.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(No) Hope of Redemption

The first time Locus (though that wasn’t his name at the time) killed someone, you were there for him, holding his hair away from his face as he threw up. He had liked it long, tying it back into a short ponytail when he had to put on his helmet. As part of the training program, your superiors had decreed that all recruits had to be able to look a man in the eye as they killed him. Locus had done the deed and had stared as the blood gushed from his victim’s bullet wound, pooling around the bits of brains that had been blown out by the headshot. He had then bent over, gagging and coughing. Recognizing the symptoms from your experience with your former trainees, you had moved his hair away from his face as he threw up. When he was done, he had turned back to you and you had been slightly shocked to see him crying.

Seeing the young adult- barely out of his teens- cry had sparked some kind of parental instinct in you and you had pulled him into a hug, rubbing circles on his back as he cried for the life he had just taken. He had kept asking why he had to do that. You could still remember you reply. “We’re soldiers. Sometimes we have to take a life to save many lives.” It had been true. The man Locus had killed was a willing Covenant informant- likely trying to sell out the people on his planet in hopes of living through the war.

Later, you had found out that Locus’ partner-to-be, Felix had sliced his target to death with his knife, torturing his victim before going in for the kill. You had been wary of Felix, he seemed to be the polar opposite of Locus, with no moral compass, an air of arrogance about him, and seemed far too eager to follow any orders that would lead to him killing at least one thing. As much as you hadn’t wanted Felix around your trainee, you had had no choice but to allow Locus and Felix to be placed together in their squadron when the time came.

Even though he was no longer under your supervision, Locus had continued to come to you whenever the guilt from taking so many live became too much for him. You would reassure him that he was doing the right thing and comfort him when he cried. Felix thought that Locus was weak for trying to save lives and disliking it when he had to kill, but to you, it meant that there was still some humanity left in Locus, and it had reminded you of when he was first assigned to you for training.

But one day, something had changed. After one particular mission, Locus stopped coming to you for comfort, instead choosing to be alone and stay in his armour all the time. He had cut his hair short and had begun insisting that everyone call him Locus, the name of his armour. When this new Locus began snapping at you and ordering you around, when he had treated you as an equal before, you had known that the real Locus, the one who had thrown up at sights of blood and gore he himself created and had nightmares about the people he had killed, was gone. He wasn’t coming back. In the war, once someone crossed the line from soldier to killer, the was no hope of redemption.

You had told him that after the war, when he announced that he and Felix were going to become mercenaries. You had marched up to him and practically ripped off his helmet, throwing it towards where your own helmet lay after you had initially thrown it at the news. You had gotten right up in Locus’ face and told him “I don’t know what got into you after that one mission, but you are not the same person I trained. You have no right to pretend to be a soldier when all you are is a killer. You have no right to pretend to be human! You are a monster, Locus. That’s all you’ll ever be.” You had practically spat out the name Locus, it representing every change from the young trainee you had comforted to the monster you had seen then. After glaring at him one last time, you had spun on your heel and left, picking up your helmet as you passed it. You never saw Locus' expression turn to one of hurt and anguish, and you never saw Felix put a firm hand on Locus’ shoulder when he made to follow you.

That had been the last time you ever saw Locus. When you had returned to your bunk, you had packed up all of your belongings and said your goodbyes to those you still cared about. By dawn, there had been no trace that you had ever been in the base. The war was over, and you had had no reason to stay. It was time to make a new life for yourself and you had hoped that you would begin to forget the past few years of your life.

But now, years had passed and you still hadn’t forgotten. The screams of dying soldiers were still fresh in your mind, and you never felt quite clean enough. You were always on edge and never more than a few feet away from one of your weapons. Sometimes you wondered how everyone else was doing, but not often. You had a normal job now, and you were good enough at it to make ends meet.

You were jolted out of your musings by two sharp knocks on your door. Quietly, you walked over to the door and looked through the peephole, one hand on the pistol at your hip. When you saw who it was, you opened the door to reveal a man in a full suit of armour, with only his helmet off. It had been years since you last saw him, but the man was unmistakably Locus.

Crossing your arms and leaning against the door frame, you addressed the man before you. “Locus. Long time no see. Come to kill me have you?"

Locus appeared to be taken aback by your cold greeting. “I’m not here for that."

“I see. So it’s Felix who’s going to have my blood on his hands."

“Felix is dead. I’m here by myself.” Locus replied, showing no sign of mourning his partner’s death. “And there will be no killing here if I can help it. I’m done with being a murderer. I am not a weapon, no matter how much I tried to be one."

“I see.” You said skeptically. “Get inside. I think we have a lot to talk about."

As you prodded him inside with your pistol, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe- just maybe, the old Locus was back. There was a certain broken look to him, and his voice had cracked a bit. Perhaps he did regret what he had done, in the war and as a mercenary. Perhaps he was free of Felix’s influence. Nevertheless, you knew that you were about to have an interesting discussion with your former trainee.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, my first attempt at writing a fanfic (reader insert or otherwise). It's kind of short, though overall, I think it turned out okay. Feedback is appreciated, but not necessary, and I hope you have a wonderful day! :)
> 
> Final Word Count: 1212 words


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